


Roses and Romance

by withdiamonds



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-08
Updated: 2004-04-08
Packaged: 2017-10-15 12:44:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withdiamonds/pseuds/withdiamonds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guys go clubbing.  Written for the 100 Ways Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roses and Romance

The club was smoky, which in and of itself was enough to put Justin in a bad mood. Add to that Lance’s obnoxious behavior, and he was about ready to smack someone. The only reason he hadn’t yet was because he just wasn’t sure who it would be more satisfying to whack at this point, Lance or Chris. Chris was bitching up a storm and seemed ready to call it a night, clearly annoyed by the situation. JC and Joey had already left, obviously not wanting to be a party to the inevitable confrontation. Chris shook his head at Justin, and said, “Dude, get Lance outta here before he blows our careers to shit.” Chris was irritated enough to ignore his own double entendre, and Justin knew that meant they were pretty close to crossing a line they tried not to cross very often.

He shot a glare over to where Lance was leaning elegantly against the bar, smiling at a slim blond boy. The pasty little twink was standing way too close, right in Lance’s personal space, with his hand on Lance’s hip. His fucking hip. Lance didn’t look like he was planning on protesting any time soon. He was smiling his toothy shark’s grin, all gums and glittering green eyes, while the object of his supposed affection smiled invitingly back. When Lance’s tongue came out to lick unhurriedly at his own bottom lip, leaving it glistening in the bluish club lighting, Justin tore his eyes away and turned the glare on Chris. “Fuck off, Kirkpatrick.”

Chris shrugged. “Hey, don’t take it out on me, dickwad. If you can’t control your boyfriend better, maybe you need to stay back at the hotel. He doesn’t act this way when you’re not around, you know.”

Justin grimaced. He’d sort of hoped it wasn’t that obvious. “Fuck you, it’s not my job to control him. That’s not, you know, what we’re all about.”

“Well, if you’re all about roses and romance, sweetheart, someone forgot to send Lance the memo. You guys need to get your stories straight, or maybe you need to work on your technique, man.”

“My technique is just fine, fuck you very much,” Justin snarled.

“Ooh, a little defensive, are we?” Chris chuckled, his good mood restored by Justin’s exasperation. He held his hands up as Justin spluttered, and said, “No, no, don’t beat me. Just go get him and take him back to the hotel and fuck him good.” He paused, then shook with barely contained laughter. “Of course, that just reinforces his bad behavior, doesn’t it, J?”

Justin decided to go the dignified route and ignore Chris completely. He wasn’t about to reinforce his bad behavior by giving him the satisfaction of an answer to his crack-brained observations. He turned his attention back to his wayward boyfriend as Chris flagged Lonnie down and jerked his head toward the door. Justin mentally calculated how many drinks Lance could have had in the amount of time they’d been at the club, and whistled to himself. It was so time to go.

He kept a careful grip on his temper as he contemplated Lance and the skinny little fuck who seemingly held all his attention. He knew full well that Lance was as aware of Justin’s every movement as Justin was of Lance’s. Justin could easily just go and wait in the limo and let Lance extricate himself from twee-boy all on his own. It would serve him right, but it wouldn’t really serve Justin’s mood. It seemed somewhat inadequate to the occasion. What Justin really wanted to do was drag Lance to the bathroom and spank his ass until he couldn’t sit comfortably for at least a week. The slow flip of his stomach at the images that idea conjured up spurred him into action. Not here, not this time, but he really needed to get them out of this place now.

He strolled casually over to the pair at the bar. Only someone who knew him well would realize that he was seething with anger. Lance looked up at him, then quickly looked away, the hint of a impish smile, quickly suppressed, teasing at his mouth. The skinny blond was insipidly pretty, but vapid looking in a spaced-out way. Justin sure as fuck hoped he hadn’t shared whatever he was on with Lance, although, really, Lance knew better than that. The kid’s hand was still on Lance’s hip, but now his fingertips were tucked inside the waistband of Lance’s jeans, and Justin could see them moving slowly back and forth, rubbing Lance’s skin. Justin’s vision flashed red for an instant, and something must have shown on his face, because Lance backed a little away from the boy at the same time the kid pulled his hand out of Lance’s pants, looking uncertainly from Lance to Justin.

Justin bared his teeth at the boy, pretending it was a smile. Without looking at Lance, he said, “Limo’s waiting for us, Bass. Time to go.” For a second Justin thought the kid was going to protest, but he must have decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. Moron. Lance was always worth the hassle.

“Um, nice to meet you, dude. Maybe next time you’re in town…” he trailed off, looking a little pissed.

“Sure,” Lance said casually. “Thanks for the drink.” He waved a hand at the kid and then Justin planted his hand in the small of Lance’s back and propelled him towards the door.

“You made him pay for the drinks?” Justin asked in grim amusement, momentarily diverted in spite of himself.

“Why not?” Lance answered coolly. Arrogant little shit. It was one of the things Justin admired most about him. They reached the limo and Justin gave him an extra little push as he opened the door. Fucking Lance didn’t even stumble, just climbed inside, all controlled grace as he settled on the seat next to Chris. “Hey, Chris,” he greeted him. “Did ya’ll have a good night?”

“Not as good as you, Bass, apparently,” Chris said with an tolerant chuckle that made Justin grind his teeth.

Lance rested his head back on the seat. “Mmm,” he agreed as he closed his eyes. Chris raised his eyebrows at Justin, but Justin just turned to watch the city glide silently by as the limo headed back to their hotel.

*

Justin restrained himself from slamming the hotel room door, but not by much. As it was, he tossed his keycard and cell phone on the dresser with a bit more force than was probably necessary. He took a deep breath to center himself. No way was he going to let Lance know just how close he was to killing him. How much his superior expression was setting Justin’s teeth on edge. How his raised eyebrow was practically an invitation for Justin to retaliate in kind, making cool, calm remarks about Lance’s sluttiness in general, and his tendency to flirt with cute androgynous boys when he was drunk specifically.

“What the fuck, Lance?” That wasn’t cool and calm, Justin knew this, but it was apparently the best he could manage under the circumstances. Justin scowled in annoyance as Lance looked back at him impassively. He felt anger shimmer under his skin, coming dangerously close to the surface as Lance let his face relax into a smirk.

“What, Justin?” he drawled. He leaned one shoulder against the wall, and Justin wondered, not for the first time, how anyone could lounge so sexily regardless of what position they were in or how much alcohol they had consumed. Lance’s cheeks were flushed, and while there were at least two buttons on his shirt still fastened, the collar was sticking up on the left side and the shirt itself was slipping down over his right shoulder, exposing smooth skin. This definitely gave him an unfair advantage over Justin, who was in danger of allowing thoughts of tasting that skin to cloud his sense of purpose. Lance’s thumbs were tucked in his pockets, fingertips lightly grazing the bulge at the front of his jeans. “What?” he said again, voice cool. Justin longed to shake him out of that infuriatingly self-possessed attitude, wanted, in fact, to shake him until his teeth rattled.

“Could you have been any more obvious that you wanted to fuck that skanky-ass Randy Harrison wanna-be, Lance? I mean, seriously,” Justin snapped.

“Whatever are you talking about, J?” Lance murmured. There was a gleam in his eye that made Justin realize just how expertly he was being played, sort of like a well-loved guitar.

Justin narrowed his eyes. If Lance wasn’t careful, he’d get more than he bargained for. Justin knew this game well. Occasionally, Lance took it a little farther than Justin appreciated, and although he knew it was a game, Justin sometimes had trouble not getting pissed off. He thought maybe Lance knew that, and he guessed that sometimes, that was sort of the point. Lance could be a kinky fucker when he wanted to be.

He took a deep breath. He could do this. He knew what Lance wanted, and it would be fun tonight to relieve some of the boredom that inevitably tap-danced on his sanity towards the end of a tour. Especially this tour, which would end with them all going their separate ways, at least for the foreseeable future. Justin had a sudden mental picture of Lance partying in Russia, drink in one hand, hot Russian boy in the other, while Freddy immortalized the moment on film. There was no way Justin was letting that happen, not without putting up a fight, staking a claim, asserting ownership clearly enough that Lance would think twice about fucking his way through cosmonaut training.

Of course, Justin knew perfectly well that Lance was going to be too damn busy to even think about sleeping his way around Moscow, or Star City, or wherever the fuck he was headed, even if he wanted to, but he was kind of enjoying the little scenario he had happening in his head, and he decided to go with it and see where it took them.

Justin crossed the room, advancing slowly on Lance, pressing him up against the wall. Lance met his eyes for a moment, and Justin caught a flash of heat before Lance lowered his lashes in a credible imitation of submission. The corner of his mouth twitched just a bit, however, and Justin felt unexpected laughter threaten to bubble up and overtake him. He ruthlessly squashed it down. He didn’t want to ruin the mood here.

He studied Lance a moment, making him wait, then lowered his head and kissed him quickly and roughly, slipping his hand behind his head to protect it from hitting the wall. Lance whimpered, just a little, and Justin gentled the kiss, moving his lips slowly over Lance’s. Lance opened his mouth, tongue insistent against Justin’s, and Justin closed his eyes. His hand moved to Lance’s neck, fingertips skating over the taut tendons as Lance strained into Justin’s kiss. His other hand settled on Lance’s waist, lightly caressing the soft skin under the waistband of his jeans, the same way twink-boy had, in almost the same place. That thought made Justin’s hand tighten on Lance’s neck and Lance arched against him, pushing his hips forward.

Justin trailed his hand down to Lance’s shirt buttons. Deftly, he slipped them out of their holes and drew the shirt down Lance’s arms, gathering the silky material around his wrists. He twisted it in his hand, and Lance’s kisses got more demanding as the shirt tightened around him. He pulled away to catch his breath and Lance tried to follow. He shook his head and moved towards the dresser, pulling Lance along by his shirt.

Justin turned Lance to face the mirror, standing behind him, pinning his wrists to the small of his back. His other hand came around Lance’s chest, brushing lightly over his nipples, then pinching one roughly. Lance gasped and closed his eyes. Justin tugged his arms higher up his back and said, “No. Watch.” Their eyes met in the mirror and Lance’s breathing quickened. Justin lowered his mouth to Lance’s neck, snuffling at the soft skin behind his ear, before biting down hard. Lance pushed his ass back against Justin ineffectually, his hands too much in the way for full contact. Justin licked at the bite mark, then raised his head and saw that Lance had closed his eyes again. “I said watch,” he hissed in Lance’s ear. Lance’s eyes flew open and Justin saw himself smile in the mirror. It wasn’t a nice smile. Lance made a noise low in his throat, and Justin watched him struggle to keep his eyes open. Kissing his neck softly, Justin said, “That’s good, baby.”

Justin ran his hand over the front of Lance’s jeans and squeezed once, and Lance’s hips jerked forward. “J,” he whispered. “Come on.” Justin flicked the snap open, then lowered the zipper. Without letting go of the shirt twisted around his wrists, he worked the jeans down over Lance’s hips one-handed, tugging a little when they caught on his dick. Lance moaned, and Justin bit his lip distractedly. When Lance made that noise, it was hard to stay focused. Justin pushed Lance’s boxers down, too, leaving jeans and underwear around his thighs. Lance stared at him in the mirror, and Justin ran his hand up Lance’s cock once, then just held it, not moving, until Lance squirmed and dropped his eyes, his cheeks pink. Justin yanked him away from the dresser and over to the table where they had eaten an overcooked Room Service dinner earlier in the evening. Justin pushed Lance’s shoulder and bent him over the table, still not letting go of the shirt he gripped in his other hand.

Lance didn’t say anything, but he tried to pull his arms free of the shirt tangled around his wrists. “No way, baby,” Justin growled, letting Lance hear the displeasure in his voice. Lance stilled and Justin leaned down and whispered in his ear, “That’s better.” Lance shivered beneath him and Justin smiled. He gave Lance’s jeans another quick shove, just enough to give him better access to what he wanted, then he moved his finger slowly down the cleft between Lance’s cheeks, rubbing softly against the hot, slick skin. “Mm, baby, I’m so glad you, you know, let me fuck you before we went out tonight,” he murmured. Lance was still a little slippery with lube, and Justin moved his finger back and forth over the ring of muscle, which quickly loosened under his touch. Lance wiggled his hips and Justin smiled again. “You’re so ready for this, aren’t you, baby?”

“Come on, J,” Lance whined, and Justin’s smile broadened. Lance didn’t often whine, but when he did, Justin thought it was adorable. He appreciated that he was the one that could reduce Lance to that level, and so quickly, too. Plus, he was just getting started here. This was gonna be so good.

He moved his fingertip in lazy circles as Lance wiggled again, trying to encourage Justin. Justin pulled his hand back and smacked Lance’s ass sharply. Lance whimpered. “Hold still,” Justin commanded, feeling slightly ridiculous, but masterful all the same.

“Fucker,” Lance said under his breath, barely audible. Justin snickered.

“Not tonight, baby. You’re going to have to make do with just my fingers tonight.” Really, Justin was dying to fuck Lance again, but it would be more fun to play with him like this, maybe even make him beg. It was good to have a goal, he thought smugly.

He lost a bit of that smugness when Lance hissed, “Shit,” impatiently and Justin looked down to see him struggle against the shirt restraining his wrists. That was just so hot.

Justin pushed one finger steadily inside, stopping when he felt Lance clench around him. “Justin,” Lance growled, and Justin shivered the way he always did when he heard that particular note in Lance’s voice. That combination of demand and plea, low and resonant, vibrated through Justin’s bones.

“Mmm, you’re still all loose, baby.” Justin pulled out, then slid two fingers back inside, twisting in and out, while Lance squirmed on the tabletop. He pumped his hips, but there was nothing for him to grind against except the edge of the table, which was not a particularly good idea, and he grunted in frustration. Justin was so enjoying himself. He crooked his fingers and his dick gave a nice twitch at the sounds that that elicited from Lance.

Lance pushed back on Justin’s fingers as well as he could with Justin pinning him to the table. Justin took great pleasure in making him squirm. Next time the bastard wanted to tease by letting some star-fucker feel him up in a bar, maybe he’d think better of it.

Justin really hoped not.

Pulling his fingers out, Justin let go of the shirt around Lance’s wrists. Lance stayed where he was, head lifted off the table, breathing hard. Justin stroked a hand up his back, soothing hot skin. Tucking his hands under Lance’s shoulders, he raised him up and turned him around. Lance leaned against him, forehead resting on his shoulder. Justin rubbed his hands up and down Lance’s back again, then let them drift down over the curve of his ass. He tugged and Lance thrust his hips forward, sighing happily at the contact and raising his face for a kiss. Justin was more than willing to oblige.

Justin yanked the shirt off Lance’s hands and tossed it away. “Come on, baby, on the bed.” Justin moved over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and pulling Lance face down over his lap. He raised his hand and smacked it down on Lance’s ass, hard. Lance jerked in surprise and Justin laughed. He rubbed the red hand print, admiring his handiwork. “You want me to spank you, baby? I think you need it, don’t you?”

“J,” Lance moaned. “Don’t.”

“Someday, Lance, you’re gonna push me too far, you know,” Justin said conversationally. He slid his finger back inside and Lance moaned again. Slowly, Justin moved in and out, hooking his finger, making Lance writhe over his lap. He tried to spread his legs, but his jeans were still around his thighs. Justin let him struggle, enjoying the sight. It was good to be king.

“Justiiiin.” Lance was beginning to sound desperate. Justin picked up the pace a bit, twisting in and out as he finger-fucked his hot boyfriend. He felt sorry for anyone who wasn’t him and didn’t get to do this, didn’t get to put their fingers in Lance’s ass and make him beg for more. Judging by the noises coming from the bedspread Lance’s face was buried in, he was pretty successfully driving Lance crazy. “God, Justin, please, come on, come on.” Lance’s voice trailed off in a hoarse whisper.

That was just entirely too hot, and Justin relented. He liked to reward good behavior as well as bad, and begging was as good as Lance’s behavior could get, in Justin’s opinion. He moved his leg so that Lance could grind against his thigh, and Lance panted as he humped frantically.

When Lance’s groans changed to whimpers, when his voice went from low and rumbly to high and desperate, Justin pushed two fingers in and twisted them roughly in a quick rhythm that tried to keep pace with Lance’s movements. Lance cried out helplessly when he came, hot and wet on Justin’s leg. Justin closed his eyes and concentrated hard on not coming himself as Lance clamped down around his fingers. He still had his pants on, and there was just no way he was doing that, he didn’t care how hot Lance was.

Justin’s fingers continued to move lazily in and out of Lance’s ass as Lance relaxed around him. He drew them out and patted the closest butt cheek. Lance’s breathing slowed, and he started making the purring noises that indicated he was content and satisfied with his lot in life. Well, that was just dandy for Lance, but Justin wasn’t quite there yet

“Scoot up, baby,” Justin ordered, easing Lance off his lap as he stood up. He stripped quickly, tossing clothes every which way, then stared at Lance, sprawled carelessly out on the bed with his pants still around his thighs, looking totally debauched. “Take those off,” Justin said hoarsely, and Lance reached with both hands and shoved his jeans down, kicking them away without breaking eye contact with Justin.

Justin swallowed hard, then launched himself onto the bed. Lance bounced once and laughed as Justin covered him with his body, kissing him deep and hard. Pulling back, Justin said, “Touch me.” Lance grinned as he took Justin’s cock in his hand. Justin didn’t think it would take much, and he was right. Lance had him shaking and gasping out his name in no time.

“Mmm.” Justin kissed Lance again. “Pretty pleased with yourself, aren’t you, Bass?” he asked, grinning at the satisfied expression on Lance’s face. Lance nodded contentedly.

“Yep,” he said. “I believe I am.” Justin laughed, then tugged and pulled until he had them both arranged the way he wanted, spooned together with his arms tight around Lance’s waist and Lance’s hands closed over his own.

Justin nuzzled at Lance’s neck, and then whispered in his ear, “You belong to me, you know.” Lance wiggled back against him in happy agreement. Justin considered their upcoming schedule for a moment. “So, what are the odds of us going clubbing like that again tomorrow night?”


End file.
